First of all, a link:
http://www.thefoxwebsite.org/index.html
I was idly internetting and decided to revise my knowledge of foxes a little. This website has plenty of useful information in accessible form. I had a read of the comments on fox feeding since this is a topic that frequently arises.
Do many people feed foxes? Yes, a lot of people do! Some enthusiasts buy meat specially but this is unnecessary. Most kitchen scraps are acceptable, except maybe for some vegetables. Any meat trimmings, ends of cheese, stale sandwiches, fruit, sweet stuff (foxes really have a sweet tooth!)
I often wonder if the traditional caution about giving cooked chicken bones to dogs and cats applies to foxes. My guess is that they eat so much found stuff that a chicken carcass is just a mouthful to them! Still, I go a little carefully just in case.
Commonest question: Are they hungrier now that they can't get food out of wheelie bins?
Answer: NO! There are more foxes around the suburbs now than there were ten years ago, and they look pretty well fed. Bird feeders, cat dishes, compost heaps, mice and rats, worms and insects, dead birds, roadkill, dropped fast food like chips and wrappings with pizza crust, apple cores and ends of bread in the schoolyard, and of course, the offerings of suckers like me and many of my neighbours!
One handy thing about the carrion-eating habits of the fox is that they have a palate for food that is quite "high". So that bit of ham or fish in the fridge that is well past it's use-by date can be put out for foxes and do them no harm. This reduces your waste footprint, too.
I'm afraid the corollary is, if a cherished pet has died and been interred with full military honours in your back garden, it is advisable to put a good solid rock or paving slab on top to avoid exhumations...'nuff said.
In the last week, I've put out: the skin from a side of smoked salmon, fat and gristle trimmed from stewing beef, stale cheese sandwich, scrapings of spaghetti bolognese, two mince pies.
Gone, all gone. Signs of passage under my garden shed too. Barking and yikkering at night.
No actual sightings, but signs clear to read.
Thursday 15 January 2009
Thursday 1 January 2009
Grizzle
Well, this is a nice New Year's omen. I saw Grizzle twice today. First at about noon, walking away from the fox-dish which had been empty anyway. He, or she, leapt lightly over the wall into Martin's, just at the very spot which is the foxes' traditional crossing-point, and just below which lies the body of his fallen comrade. I'm almost afraid to look, even though the dead body is a little way to the left from the landing point.
An hour or so later I saw him again from the bedroom, sitting under Martins' oak-tree, scratching the back of his or her neck. It got up and trotted briskly away into the old den area and did not reappear. I had put food out but the fox did not go back for it - they never do, somehow. As if their daily schedule must be followed in order. Food has been found on two successive days in that spot during the morning, so it will be checked every morning, and that's that.
Description: Grizzle is a large fox. One can be deceived at this time of year by heavy winter pelage, I know: but Grizzle is not very thickly furred, but actually rather gawky looking. A bony, somewhat elderly, look. Fur on back is a good dark reddy-brown, almost conker colour. Tail thinnish but not apparently mangy. Long and with white tip and whitened along the length a bit, hence the name.
Of course we know what Grizzle is up to. At this time of year, every self-respecting fox is looking for a mate and a breeding territory, in either order. Here is a nice couple of overgrown gardens, one of them very secluded, full of cover, food regularly available nearby, and a history of use by foxes. There's underground earths adjoining, comfy lying-up spots, private playing areas, covered runs and escape routes. Jam for the first comer, in fact. Now bring on the talent and let's make whoopee!
And by the way, Happy New Year!
An hour or so later I saw him again from the bedroom, sitting under Martins' oak-tree, scratching the back of his or her neck. It got up and trotted briskly away into the old den area and did not reappear. I had put food out but the fox did not go back for it - they never do, somehow. As if their daily schedule must be followed in order. Food has been found on two successive days in that spot during the morning, so it will be checked every morning, and that's that.
Description: Grizzle is a large fox. One can be deceived at this time of year by heavy winter pelage, I know: but Grizzle is not very thickly furred, but actually rather gawky looking. A bony, somewhat elderly, look. Fur on back is a good dark reddy-brown, almost conker colour. Tail thinnish but not apparently mangy. Long and with white tip and whitened along the length a bit, hence the name.
Of course we know what Grizzle is up to. At this time of year, every self-respecting fox is looking for a mate and a breeding territory, in either order. Here is a nice couple of overgrown gardens, one of them very secluded, full of cover, food regularly available nearby, and a history of use by foxes. There's underground earths adjoining, comfy lying-up spots, private playing areas, covered runs and escape routes. Jam for the first comer, in fact. Now bring on the talent and let's make whoopee!
And by the way, Happy New Year!
Tuesday 30 December 2008
Calloo Callay!
Cold, cold day today. Garden seething with birds. They are enjoying the pond which might be the only bit of open water in tha area - the birds are actually queueing for their baths! The blackbird splashes pleasurably, throwing water around. Meanwhile, a large sparrow waits on the edge of the stone sink. Soon he gets his turn but is buzzed in the water by an impatient greenfinch.
There is plenty of food available to distract those who can't get into the water. I see coal tits, blue tits, greenfinches, robins. On my terrace, a small red-brown whirr of movement is Jenny Wren.
I watch all this, delighted, from my kitchen window. Through the screen of bushes which shelters the lower quarter, a slide of movemrt catches my eye. It is a large fox, coming over the wall from Cassidy's. Entranced, I watch as the brown-red form slides down the wall and turns right, towards the shrubbery, and pauses: only the tail can be seen, held out horizontal, foxy-orange with the white of the tip extending upwards, like an old dog's chin. Grizzled,in fact.
Thrilled, I quickly place some Christmas leftovers in a bowl and hastily put the food in the traditional fox-feeding spot beside the pond. Too much for Cleo the cat, sorry, birds!
Then I went in for an afternoon nap. And when I got up an hour later the food was all gone!
Hurrah hurray calloo callay! The boys are back in town!
There is plenty of food available to distract those who can't get into the water. I see coal tits, blue tits, greenfinches, robins. On my terrace, a small red-brown whirr of movement is Jenny Wren.
I watch all this, delighted, from my kitchen window. Through the screen of bushes which shelters the lower quarter, a slide of movemrt catches my eye. It is a large fox, coming over the wall from Cassidy's. Entranced, I watch as the brown-red form slides down the wall and turns right, towards the shrubbery, and pauses: only the tail can be seen, held out horizontal, foxy-orange with the white of the tip extending upwards, like an old dog's chin. Grizzled,in fact.
Thrilled, I quickly place some Christmas leftovers in a bowl and hastily put the food in the traditional fox-feeding spot beside the pond. Too much for Cleo the cat, sorry, birds!
Then I went in for an afternoon nap. And when I got up an hour later the food was all gone!
Hurrah hurray calloo callay! The boys are back in town!
Monday 29 December 2008
Spotters
On Christmas Eve, as I was shopping for groceries in Blackrock, I received a text message from a friend, the Education Officer of the Irish Wildlife Trust. It said, paraphrased:
Are you bored with shopping? Then come down to the Liffey quays, between Queen St and the Park. I'm watching an otter, happily playing in the water!
I couldn't get there, but I'm happy for the otter and my friend and the lucky few who got to see an otter at play, in broad daylight in a crowded city!
Same day - my husband was walking down the tree-lined avenue that leads to the N11 and a grey squirrel ran across the road in front of him. They're everywhere...
Today I saw 4 blackbirds in my garden; that is to say, two were dark brown, the ladies.
One of them was in or on the pond, pecking disconsolately at the thick sheet of ice. I went out with a bowl of water and they scattered. Later they were back, fighting among themselves when not tossing over dead leaves, as they do.
The dead fox is being gradually covered with leaves, some blown over, some thrown on by me. It merges imperceptibly with the earth. My hope is that by Spring, I won't have to look at a skeleton!
Are you bored with shopping? Then come down to the Liffey quays, between Queen St and the Park. I'm watching an otter, happily playing in the water!
I couldn't get there, but I'm happy for the otter and my friend and the lucky few who got to see an otter at play, in broad daylight in a crowded city!
Same day - my husband was walking down the tree-lined avenue that leads to the N11 and a grey squirrel ran across the road in front of him. They're everywhere...
Today I saw 4 blackbirds in my garden; that is to say, two were dark brown, the ladies.
One of them was in or on the pond, pecking disconsolately at the thick sheet of ice. I went out with a bowl of water and they scattered. Later they were back, fighting among themselves when not tossing over dead leaves, as they do.
The dead fox is being gradually covered with leaves, some blown over, some thrown on by me. It merges imperceptibly with the earth. My hope is that by Spring, I won't have to look at a skeleton!
Wednesday 24 December 2008
A very merry Christmas!
Season's greetings to all who read here!
Sorry there hasn't been any new post for a month - there simply haven't been any sightings at all. Or soundings.
I was chatting to a neighbour yesterday who agreed with me that the distinctive sound of foxes barking at night has not been heard. It used to be quite a feature of life around here - the winter shrieking of vulpine courtship. And this is right spot on in mating season. But the tawny fellow-tenants have gone quiet.
Sometimes I have ugly daydreams in which I imagine that some evil-spirited citizen is poisoning them all. And it is true that there was an outbreakof animal poisoning a couple of years ago in which several people, including ourselves, lost beloved pets. It was never explained, but I did think that perhaps someone was laying poison for foxes. Even putting out rat poison might be the cause, if cats or foxes would eat poisoned meat.
Let us hope it is nothing of the sort, but only caution and stealth!
A very happy Christmas to all!
Sorry there hasn't been any new post for a month - there simply haven't been any sightings at all. Or soundings.
I was chatting to a neighbour yesterday who agreed with me that the distinctive sound of foxes barking at night has not been heard. It used to be quite a feature of life around here - the winter shrieking of vulpine courtship. And this is right spot on in mating season. But the tawny fellow-tenants have gone quiet.
Sometimes I have ugly daydreams in which I imagine that some evil-spirited citizen is poisoning them all. And it is true that there was an outbreakof animal poisoning a couple of years ago in which several people, including ourselves, lost beloved pets. It was never explained, but I did think that perhaps someone was laying poison for foxes. Even putting out rat poison might be the cause, if cats or foxes would eat poisoned meat.
Let us hope it is nothing of the sort, but only caution and stealth!
A very happy Christmas to all!
Monday 24 November 2008
Cats
Cats are bad for wildlife: I wish we didn't have one, for that reason, even though I'm a cat-lover and my husband thrives on them. The one we have is only being "minded" for a friend who is between homes at the moment. She's sweet, very feminine and feline, (the cat, I mean. The friend is female but human!)
But since we've had her there's been less and less to see in the garden. Apart from mice, I ought to say: Cleo does keep her end of the traditional bargain and has caught a couple. But birds are much fewer.
I was watching a pair of bullfinches the other day. They are so vividly coloured, they stood out like party balloons in the dull garden, feeding from the seeding heads of great willowherb. I watched them with pleasure but it was the only good wildlife observation for a week.
No frogs, dead fox, few birds. This may not all be Cleo's fault of course, but she can't be helping. She was reared as an outdoor cat and still likes to spend the nights outdoors, wreaking who knows what havoc.
Anyway, early next year we must move house for a couple of months while some building work is done on our kitchen so I don't know what will become of Cleo: hopefully her owner will have found a new house by then and can take her back.
But since we've had her there's been less and less to see in the garden. Apart from mice, I ought to say: Cleo does keep her end of the traditional bargain and has caught a couple. But birds are much fewer.
I was watching a pair of bullfinches the other day. They are so vividly coloured, they stood out like party balloons in the dull garden, feeding from the seeding heads of great willowherb. I watched them with pleasure but it was the only good wildlife observation for a week.
No frogs, dead fox, few birds. This may not all be Cleo's fault of course, but she can't be helping. She was reared as an outdoor cat and still likes to spend the nights outdoors, wreaking who knows what havoc.
Anyway, early next year we must move house for a couple of months while some building work is done on our kitchen so I don't know what will become of Cleo: hopefully her owner will have found a new house by then and can take her back.
Tuesday 18 November 2008
The cycles of nature
Autumn leaves have turned to gold. The garden has gone quiet. I haven't posted anything for nearly two months. And for why? Been no foxes, that's why.
Cross my heart, I've seen a fox out behind the houses exactly once in the last month: a distant glimpse of one in the next-door garden, stalking away, swishing a full tail on a chilly dusk. I couldn't see if it was one of the regulars, perhaps a pale spot on the hip was a patch of mange?
Last week, driving home late at night, saw one crossing the street further down. And that's been it.
Where have all the flowers gone? (Mournful music...)
Until yesterday.
Down the garden I went with my tub of peelings for the compost bin. And what a pleasant change to see a bit of bright sunshine on a nice mild day. I hopped up on the log-pile to have a squint into Martin's: sometimes you can spot a sleepy fox having a snooze in a corner from this vantage point. Alas, nothing but an autumnal, overgrown garden.
This is the spot where I sometimes toss a few tidbits over the wall, if there is something tasty left over in the kitchen. A few drops of mange medicine are sprinkled on top of, say, a beef bone.
Seized by sudden curiosity, I scrambled to the very top of the slippy heap and peered directly downwards, into the lee of the wall. Really, I wanted to see if the food had gone or was just lying around attracting rats. But I saw nothing except brownish and amber leaves. I looked again and at last realised what I was seeing. A dead fox lay, almost covered with brown leaves, perfectly camouflaged. Right beside where the food must have landed.
The poor thing lay as if resting on its belly, head turned to left. Leaves had drifted around. It was a perfect tableau of life extinguished returning to the earth. By spring it will have vanished.
Taken aback, and upset, I hopped down and considered. Smallish fox - but, then, they always look small close up. Rich amber-to-bronze fur. Full tail, no tag visible. What should I do?
If I jumped down to inspect, and my neighbour looked out and spotted me, she'd have conniption fits about burglars and probably a heart attack. If I went and asked her, she might get all twittery and make a fuss. You see, she doesn't know that I watch her back garden so closely, though I have mentioned it to her of course. But she still could get self-conscious, since she used to be very garden-proud and now can't manage it.
It began to rain soon after, so there would be no post-mortem
This morning, though, having slept on the question, I woke up sure that I had to identify the fox just for the completion of this record, if nothing else. And felt confident that the sprawling bushes would hide me completely. So straight after breakfast, down I went with a long stick. After a bit of hauling logs and huffing and puffing, I was discreetly over the wall and hidden from view under the dark bell of a massive macrocarpa. Sadly I inspected the little corpse, and began to scrape away leaves.
But the poor thing must have been there for weeks. It was intermingled, embedded. I hadn't the heart, or nerve, to turn it over so I don't even know what sex it was (Did we ever, with a fox!)
It was like the one I spotted that twilight evening: possibly a seasonal newcomer. Could have been Ragtip or Roisin. Not Halftail. Too dark for Sandy.
So well did the colour blend with the autumn leaves, so kindly did the underside begin to become soft earth, that I did not continue my explorations, but climbed back over my wall. I had, at least, bidden farewell to a creature that I had in some measure sponsored in its life.
Cross my heart, I've seen a fox out behind the houses exactly once in the last month: a distant glimpse of one in the next-door garden, stalking away, swishing a full tail on a chilly dusk. I couldn't see if it was one of the regulars, perhaps a pale spot on the hip was a patch of mange?
Last week, driving home late at night, saw one crossing the street further down. And that's been it.
Where have all the flowers gone? (Mournful music...)
Until yesterday.
Down the garden I went with my tub of peelings for the compost bin. And what a pleasant change to see a bit of bright sunshine on a nice mild day. I hopped up on the log-pile to have a squint into Martin's: sometimes you can spot a sleepy fox having a snooze in a corner from this vantage point. Alas, nothing but an autumnal, overgrown garden.
This is the spot where I sometimes toss a few tidbits over the wall, if there is something tasty left over in the kitchen. A few drops of mange medicine are sprinkled on top of, say, a beef bone.
Seized by sudden curiosity, I scrambled to the very top of the slippy heap and peered directly downwards, into the lee of the wall. Really, I wanted to see if the food had gone or was just lying around attracting rats. But I saw nothing except brownish and amber leaves. I looked again and at last realised what I was seeing. A dead fox lay, almost covered with brown leaves, perfectly camouflaged. Right beside where the food must have landed.
The poor thing lay as if resting on its belly, head turned to left. Leaves had drifted around. It was a perfect tableau of life extinguished returning to the earth. By spring it will have vanished.
Taken aback, and upset, I hopped down and considered. Smallish fox - but, then, they always look small close up. Rich amber-to-bronze fur. Full tail, no tag visible. What should I do?
If I jumped down to inspect, and my neighbour looked out and spotted me, she'd have conniption fits about burglars and probably a heart attack. If I went and asked her, she might get all twittery and make a fuss. You see, she doesn't know that I watch her back garden so closely, though I have mentioned it to her of course. But she still could get self-conscious, since she used to be very garden-proud and now can't manage it.
It began to rain soon after, so there would be no post-mortem
This morning, though, having slept on the question, I woke up sure that I had to identify the fox just for the completion of this record, if nothing else. And felt confident that the sprawling bushes would hide me completely. So straight after breakfast, down I went with a long stick. After a bit of hauling logs and huffing and puffing, I was discreetly over the wall and hidden from view under the dark bell of a massive macrocarpa. Sadly I inspected the little corpse, and began to scrape away leaves.
But the poor thing must have been there for weeks. It was intermingled, embedded. I hadn't the heart, or nerve, to turn it over so I don't even know what sex it was (Did we ever, with a fox!)
It was like the one I spotted that twilight evening: possibly a seasonal newcomer. Could have been Ragtip or Roisin. Not Halftail. Too dark for Sandy.
So well did the colour blend with the autumn leaves, so kindly did the underside begin to become soft earth, that I did not continue my explorations, but climbed back over my wall. I had, at least, bidden farewell to a creature that I had in some measure sponsored in its life.
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